Monday, August 13, 2007

Weekend at Kettles

Ahhh, there's nothing like a weekend at Kettles to get over all this death nonsense and put a spring back in one's step. It was so lovely to spend time with Ma and Pa and Ptolemy and Gracie. On Saturday we went to the village fete where old-Mrs-Bell-down-the-lane had some glorious quince jelly; I bought a whole box! I'm going to package it up all modern-pretty with brown paper and raffia and send it to all my friends overseas, they'll love my little bit of English countryside in a jar!We spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and playing pooh-sticks...oh...England!

On Sunday, we all had a paddle in the river at the bottom of the garden (which was surprisingly warm), then Ludo, who was luckily shooting a story for Lula nearby, managed to pop down for a few hours. The menfolk went to the pub while Ma, Gracie and I talked about my baby shower, which I have reluctantly agreed to. Gracie's a darling but rather eccentric and I fear some random party games involving lucky rabbit's feet.

Anyway, I'm off to bed, Ludo's watching Battleship Potemkin again and I don't much fancy it.

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About Me

Orphaned at birth and adopted by scruffy aristos in southern England, Pippa left home at 14 and fled to Paris to live with penpal Celine where they started the cult newsletter La Bicyclette Bleu.
Now living in London, Pippa is a world-renowned photographer and editor of Weekend Birdie, an arty magazine where she over uses the word cohesive.